


I'm About to Go Back to Sleep

by anfeltyz



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Acceptance, Bondage, Cunnilingus, Edging, Exhibitionism, F/M, Gravity Defying, Rough Sex, Temperature Play, Trust, Vaginal Fingering, Wax Play, candle play, delayed gratification, female main character, hurt comfort, promises kept, proving a point
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:54:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22692871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anfeltyz/pseuds/anfeltyz
Summary: MC is having trouble sleeping again but tries to go back to sleep after something warm to drink.
Relationships: Asmodeus/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)
Comments: 44
Kudos: 310





	1. Trouble Sleeping Every Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MC is having trouble sleeping again but tries to go back to sleep after something warm to drink.

Devildom’s nights were chilly, at least for those not tucked up in bed as they should be. 

MC’s feet dangled from the stool clearly made for a demon much taller than her. Her feet were getting cold and she considered heading back to bed without finishing her warm drink.

It was interesting to learn that, other than directly next to the lava flows, the temperature here was much like a desert. She still wasn’t entirely solid on how magic was used to keep certain areas temperate, but knowing Satan, there was no way that he would let his books degrade faster in the heat. If only they had heated floors.

Then again, she wasn’t supposed to be out of bed at this hour, and she wouldn’t be able to convince them of the “magic” of geothermal heating until morning.

It was the middle of the night, well past curfew, and all of the lights were out in the House of Lamentation. All of the lights except for the kitchen light.

MC had been in there for quite some time, mulling over her sleeplessness. She briefly considered asking Lucifer about the draught he had mentioned previously when she tried to visit Belphegor the first time, but reconsidered immediately. 'Hadn’t he said I might not ever wake up?'

She would just have to ask Barbatos next time she saw Diavolo. 'Maybe I should go wake up Beelzebub,' she thought, taking time to consider it. He would let her sleep on his couch and hold her hand. She suspected if she got cold he’d let her snuggle. He was very warm. Lots of warm.

So far warm hadn't been helping. The drink she had been nursing for the last hour could attest to that.

Her best course of action would be to go to the planetarium and see if Belphegor was still awake, or nudge him awake with her foot. He’d likely begrudgingly walk her back to her room and put her to sleep, but only if she threatened to sleep on his pillow in the planetarium so that he couldn’t use it. 'I'll have to go full body pillow if I want to win out and get actual sleep tonight,' she thought. 'He's been so grumpy lately.'

She sighed and put her cup in the sink, snuffing out the candles, and shuffling her way out of the kitchen. Only the dim light from the hearth guided her. There was no need to turn on her D.D.D. for light in the hallway, she’d made this trek more times than she’d like to admit. Thankfully, Lucifer didn’t seem to mind so long as she stayed in the house and eventually made her way back to bed.

The hallway was cooler, and she regretted not taking her robe with her. The planetarium would inevitably be even colder still. Greedy for more warmth she took the longer route through the common room instead following the rest of the hallway.

It had carpets for her cold soles, and there would likely still be dying embers in the fireplace giving off the last of their warmth. One day, she would have to get up early enough to see who it was that started all of the fires, but that was not this morning.

It was much darker in the common room than it had been in the hallway, with the light from the kitchen now failing to outline her path. 

She remembered where most of the furniture was and made her way towards the doors on the opposite side, D.D.D. clutched in her right hand and left hand out in case of stray couches. The pockets of her robe would have been useful for holding the contraption and freeing her hand. She didn’t have the energy to really regret it, too languid to put any real effort into anything other than moving forward to kick Belphegor awake. Besides, as long as she stayed to the edges of the room she should be able to avoid the seating clusters.

‘It must be half past two now,’ she thought before her thigh struck an unexpected furnishing.

The furniture in the common room was what she would call “show couches”, beautifully built, low set, and not the most comfortable to lounge on. But, she had forgotten that Belphegor had weedled a very comfortable chair out of Lucifer. A chair banished to the outskirts of the room; A recliner with very tall sides to accommodate very tall demons, she remembered belatedly, as she tipped face first over it. 

She braced for the uncomfortable impact and the semi-scorpion shape of her landing, but she was met with warm hands instead.

She froze in place and the warmth of the hands soaked through her nightgown,across her clavicle and belly. They didn’t wander, only righted her. One of the embers popped in the silence and she jumped.

“You’re awake again,” the low voice said. It poured out of the darkness, smooth and melancholy, but familiar.

She shuffled round the chair that he’d failed to recline, using his knee as a guide and gently touched his face. “Asmo?” she asked.

He cupped her hand in his and removed it from his face. He held it loosely between them.

“I suppose you wouldn’t be able to recognize my voice in the dark,” he said with a breathy laugh, devoid of mirth. The characteristic upward lilt to his voice was missing.

Despite the warmth of her hand in his, she felt the cold more clearly and her skin goosebumped.

“What are you doing down here?” she asked.

He could tell she was already looking at the door. “Just thinking,” he said, the timber of his voice lower than she’d heard before. 

Briefly, she found herself wondering if his cheerful tone was really his natural voice; he sounded now like he actually was related to Lucifer, but it felt unnatural.

He wasn’t holding her in place, and she let their hands fall away from one another. He didn’t move to retrieve it. He wasn’t vying for her attention, crowding her space, no innuendos, just silence on the backdrop of the dying fire.

“I’m about to go back to sleep,” she said, and he knows she’s lying. She’s likely going to Belphegor.

“Will you be all right here?” she asked.

“No." 

It was a statement. There was no pleading in his voice but neither was there steel, only a finality to it that signalled his confidence in that truth. Though, whether he thought she was lying or whether he was saying he wouldn’t be all right she wasn’t certain.

“Stay with me,” he said. She almost hadn’t understood him, his voice was so hollow and deep, almost guttural.

“It’s late,” she said, demurring gently and turning to move past his other knee. She heard him shift slowly in the chair, but he wasn’t trying to capture her; he could have easily done so with his strength and speed. Instead, he gently took her trailing hand in one of his.

“Please don’t go to him,” he said, and his words were tight with emotion.

Not even a full step passed, the emotion in his voice stopped her long before his hand had reached her. It was difficult to be in the presence of such raw despondency; it didn’t feel like an intrusion, but it felt unstable, unsafe. She wanted to ask what he meant and why his words made her heartsick. 

When she didn’t move out of his grasp, he gently brought her hand further into the darkness, and she went willingly along with it, her knees hitting the front of the chair once more. She’d expected to be reeled in rapidly, to feel his breath on her collarbone and his fingers in her hair.

“Sit” he offered, but with the lack of his usual gaiety it sounded like it should have been a command.

Sitting carefully, warily at first, then with greater comfort when she realized he had spread his legs wider to accommodate her rather than titillate, she reclined against him.

He released her hand once he had guided her safely in the dark, returning to the armrests of the chair.

“Asmo…” she said, as the warmth of his chest bled through the back of her nightgown. His even breathing was barely perceptible, the chitin of his scorpion adornment flexing gently against the cotton, making the smallest creaking noise. “What’s going on with you?” she asked. He had manifested his demonic body and she had been completely unaware as he hid himself in the dark.

He was so still. So unlike himself.

“Why do you never come to me?” he asked her, his voice tight.

This time it was her turn to be still. “I don’t know what you mean, Asmo,” she said. “I don-”.

He cut her off, “No lies.” There was no malice in his voice, no tiredness or judgement, only certainty.

“I…” the words died on her lips. 

“Why do you always go to them?” he asked, this time plaintively and he rested his chin against the back of her head. He left little puffs of air against her hair, the rest of his question unspoken, ‘and not me’.

“Night or day,” he continued, “naps, feasting, cards, reading, gaming, there is always somewhere else, or some **one** else, you’d rather be with. It doesn’t seem to matter who so long as you can avoid me.”

“Asmo,” she tried to to comfort him. She rested her arms over his and pulled them securely around her middle. “We go shopping together, don’t we?”

She felt him tense slightly when she readjusted him to be closer.

“And there is always someone to tag along.” 

He paused letting the obvious float in air before addressing it. ‘You’re afraid of me. You’re uncomfortable being alone with me.’ 

“I know you’re up almost every night,” he said. “I usually know when you’ve gone visiting, or pulled Belphegor back to your room.” Once he’d even left his pillow behind as he trudged back to his own room, muttering about stupid, cute humans.

She tried to turn and look at him in her surprise, but he held her still within her new, warm cage. 

“I know you seek comfort with them every night in some way or other,” he said, and held her tighter still, even his thighs clenching around her slightly.

“Can you not care for me the way you do them? Am I not _enough_ somehow?” he asked hoarsely, and her heart ached at his words.

“Why do you fear me so?” he said, whispering his pain to her.

“Oh, Asmo,” she said. Her left hand reached out to the stability of the armrest and pushed, only her shoulders impaired now by his grip, and she pulled away.

She was moving to leave and his heart was breaking. Even more than before.

A harsh ‘thwang’ and his world tipped backwards. He lay there for several heart beats, trying to understand. 

He had felt his chest both imploding and being pulled apart a moment ago, and now the only sensation was her still and supine on his chest as he lifted and lowered her with each of his breaths.


	2. Poetry and Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MC and Asmodeus resolve their heart to heart, retiring from the common room to somewhere warmer... and louder.

She returned his right arm to its place around her waist, and pulled his left up to cradle in her own arms, in the cleft of her breasts. His hand was surrounded by both of hers, held apart from her heart, but he could still feel it beating rapidly through every place where she pressed against him

“I’m sorry, Asmo,” she said. “I never realized it would hurt you.”

He could hear her sincerity and it cooled some of the twisted mass of purgatory that had taken up residence in his guts.

She could feel him relax, the way the tension seemed to go out of his legs and the arm that had become her new seat belt. When he started speaking, quietly above her, she was mesmerized:

I look at you -  
and I want to kiss you.

More than anything -  
I just want a kiss.

A kiss to tell me  
that you trust your lips  
against mine.

A kiss to prove to me  
that I can still see the world  
with my eyes closed.

A kiss to remind me  
that actions truly do  
speak louder than words.

I look at you -  
and I just want to kiss you.

She recognized it from an anthology Satan had lent her several weeks ago. “I didn’t know you enjoyed poetry,” she said lamely. It seemed an inadequate response after his recitation.

His arms pulled her further up his torso until he could gently nuzzle her temple.

“You never asked,” he said, his words warm on the shell of her ear now that the wistfulness was once more hidden.

She wanted to ask how to help, but all of her instincts still told her to be guarded. Gluttony and greed, pride, indolence, envy and wrath: all were easy to slip into and out of, easily sated or put aside with little repercussion. In the human realm, a simple apology for them was often enough to regain favour, or even a rise in opinion for growth.

Lust was… Lust was so often complicated with love, honour, and expectations. It was much harder to simply turn off.

She raised his hand from over her heart and kissed it gently. Feeling him try not to tense beneath her, she realized she was now sitting in the heat of his lap.

“Please, don’t force yourself,” he said, trying not to choke the words out. “It would be worse to receive your affection only out of guilt.”

She kissed his wrist softly.

“MC,” he whispered, and she couldn’t tell if he was pleading with her to stop or continue.

Lifting his arm further, she peppered it with light kisses, twisting against his hold to reach the tender skin at the bend of his elbow.

He relented and released her. Only the soft popping of the dying fire punctuated the silence in time with each of her chaste pecks as she worked her way up to his collarbone.

“I don’t fear you,” she said quietly, now straddling him.

His hands rested at her waist, steadying her, but nothing more.

“But I am wary of the embodiment of lust,” she said as her kisses clustered along his neck and jaw. “You’re so much more dangerous to me than your brothers.”

He was glad that she couldn’t see him in the low light and shadows. A blush bloomed rapidly across his cheeks, and might’ve fled further south had he not turned his head away.

She kissed his temple, coaxing him back to face her. She ghosted her fingers over his features before planting kisses along his brow and cheek bones. Leaving an adorable kiss to his nose before she made her way to the corners of his mouth.

Her lips hovered over his, “If I kiss you, will it remain only a kiss?” she asked him quietly, earnestly. She moved her fingers into his hair, and along his horns while she waited for his reply.

“It can be anything you want it to be, and nothing more, if that is what you wish,” he admitted. His words were a calm promise, but his heart was pounding with restraint and angst. 'Why is she playing with me like this?' he wondered, debating how serious she was. He would fall in love with the only human that couldn’t be charmed. A human unphased by him, who fawned over his brothers in front of him. 'Does she know how cruel she is?'

Her hand slipped down to cup his cheek. Her lips brushed against his, and it took everything in him not to crush her to his chest as the kiss attempted to short circuit his brain. 'Does she know what she's doing to me now?'

She drew back, and he tried not to pant after such a measly kiss.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

He had obviously failed. “I am already a slave for you,” he said, gulping and looking down. “What more could I offer you for another kiss?”

“Asmo!” she said, slightly annoyed. Clearly the demon of lust was making fun of her. Her hand left his hair and she pushed at his shoulder as she sat back up.

“No,” he said, this time reaching for her.

She was surprised. The strained tone of his words reminded her Leviathan when he was frantically trying to regain a figurine she’d taken hostage.

“Please, just…once a day?” he pleaded. “No, once a week even?” He sat up, bringing the chair with him and pulling her back to his chest.

“Asmo,” she said, not buying it, “you touch me all the time.”

He groaned in frustration against her, the sound nearly vibrating through her, and she felt him fisting the back of her nightgown. When she tensed he immediately relaxed his hold. “But you never _want_ to touch me,” he said, mumbling the words into her shoulder. “I touch you because I want your affection.”

She waited to see if he would say more as he began to rub his cheek against her shoulder.

“You’ll fall asleep against Mammon. You’ll let Levi use your thighs to lay on. Belphegor can’t be unattached from you some days. I’ve seen you ask Lucifer to carry you when you were hurt. You’ve sat in Beel’s lap to get to food before him. Even Satan has stood with his arms around you while he taught you the basics of magic forms. How could I not be desperate for your touch when you so freely share it, but withhold it from me?”

Bringing her arms around him, she stroked his hair, mindful of his horns and unfurled wings.

“Every day then,” she said. “One kiss for sure.”

He kissed her shoulder and his hands slid to her thighs. He stood from the chair holding her there with ease. “Thank you,” he said as he brought his forehead down to hers, and he meant it. He had just needed to be heard. To be understood. He knew that he was the most beautiful and charming, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t want more, didn’t need more, at least when it came to her.

He felt his toes trying to curl before he realized what had happened. She was kissing him again, and her legs no longer dangling, but wrapped around his waist. Her hands in his hair and her tongue exploring his mouth.

She pulled away and returned her forehead to his.

Doing his best to control his breathing, Asmodeus flexed his fingertips into her thighs.

“You little minx!” he said, his voice regaining some of its melodic quality. “Careful, or you might find me touching you next.” He tutted at her and lifted her a bit higher, adjusting her before she could accidentally grind against his rising erection. “Now, let’s get you back to bed before you freeze your little human toes off.”

She giggled at him. “Won’t you keep me warm though, Asmodeus?” she said, elongating his name.

Imagining the way her lips were teasing out his name between them, he answered her in kind. “Aww, are you that hungry for my attention?” he said as he carried her out of the common room. This was much more normal.

But she didn’t say anything. Her usual variety of shut downs were missing.

“Maybe,” she said, and he could feel the heat of her blush against his own cheek.

Continuing up the few steps that separated the entry hall from the main landing, his stride nearly faltered on the final step when she spoke again.

“Asmo, you’d never hurt me, right?”

Her tone was sobering to him. In this he didn’t falter, not even taking a moment to think. “Never, Sweet One,” he said. The naughty promise in his reply lightening the mood again. “Not unless you asked very nicely anyway.” 

They were nearing her room and she ‘hmmm’d her approval.

“Will you keep me warm tonight?” she asked. A brazen question asked so innocently to the avatar of lust.

“I can be on my best behaviour,” he said, affirming his suitability to warm her happily. He finally had her in his arms, where she wanted to be. If that meant an uncomfortable night until he could find other outlets then so be it. He couldn’t risk this. Even if it meant having to sleep with clothing on.

His cheerful demeanor had mostly returned and she snuggled against him as they approached her door.

“Stop,” she said as he reached for the door knob.

He withdrew his hand, and she could feel the question running through his jerky return.

“Kiss me,” she said and he obeyed.

He retreated after only the slightest of kisses and he saw her pout in the faint candle light of the hall.

“It is time for all good humans to be asleep. Staying up too late is bad for your skin,” he said, falling back on old excuses to shield himself from temptation, “and you wouldn’t want to torture me too too much, would you?”

“Yes,” was all she said with a provoking look.

'Is she testing me? To see how long I can stay outside her well guarded boundaries? Even holding her and kissing her like this seems well inside the usual borders already,' he thought, his eyes searching her face for her motives. Leaning in, he kissed her again, slower this time. He slipped inside her mouth and took his time exploring her.

She felt her back pressed against the wall as he released one of her thighs, and let his hand glide up into her hair, angling her mouth for better access.

He stopped to let her breathe and for him to reassess her unexpected request.

“More,” she said, her voice demanding but still quiet and airy.

“MC...” he said.

She’d never heard her name said so richly laced with lust and warning, deep and sensuous. Wiggling a little in his grasp, she tried to pull him to her again, but to no avail. A little exasperated sigh puffed out of her before she held his face in her hands and stared into his eyes. “The best kiss is the one that has been exchanged a thousand times between the eyes before it reaches the lips.”

His lips curled into a smile, recognizing the quotation and he nodded. He was about to ignore her demand and move back to open the door when she grabbed one of his horns, lifting her chin to look down at him. “I think I’ve had just about enough eye fucking,” she said and her tone brooked no argument. “Now, warm me up, _here_.”

Almost choking on his own tongue, he hoped his eyes hadn’t gone too wide. He felt himself rush against her, like a man in the desert, and she the only water left to consume. He held her to the wall with his pelvis, letting his cock pin her in place while his hands were free to slide and grasp in all the places that he knew would make her buck and moan.

Her legs wrapped around him as best she could. She felt him pulse against her and she squirmed.

Tugging her nightgown to the side, he exposed her shoulder and the top of her breast to his lips where he licked and nipped and mapped her skin. A particularly sensitive spot, and she let out a sharp cry, and then a low moan as he soothe the nip with his tongue. He used the spot to calm himself, licking more slowly, sucking less, until he was breathing heavily, but could pull away. “Let’s take this inside, shall we?” he asked, ready to break down the door if she so wished.

“Ah, ah,” she said, the warm laughter she held back evident, “I said **here**.”

He looked around the empty hallway, next to the kitchen that Beel would visit shortly, and down the hall from Leviathan. Certainly within earshot of Satan.

“You’re going to be the death of me, MC,” he teased back, certain now that this was a test.

“Hopefully only a little death or ten,” she challenged sweetly.

He opened his mouth to talk her into her soft bed when she pressed her finger over his lips.

“Mammon is out, and I heard Lucifer go after him earlier during the curfew check,” she said, leaning in closer to whisper in his ear. “I want you to fuck me loud enough that they hear about it in the morning… If not from where they are."

His wings flexed behind him with the increased hammering of his heart. He wanted to slide in to the heat of her body and make her cry out for him now, but he would draw this out. She wouldn’t regret this. She’d only regret making them both wait.

“Anything for you,” he said and kissed her again.

This time he wouldn’t hold back when it came to pleasing her. He’d have her screaming his name until she was hoarse. Until his brothers walked to his room to complain about the banshee only to be confused by the sound coming from elsewhere.

He let her legs fall, so that the balls of her feet just barely skimmed the floor. Let her be suspended there, wanting and powerless. He washed over her skin in featherlight touches, a contrast to the harsh, demanding kisses.

Goosebumps reconquered the skin he exposed with each tear of her gown, only to be heated again by his hands as he stripped it away.

She tried to buck against him for more friction, but he continued with sensation too light to satiate. 'I said I’d never harm her. I didn’t say I wouldn’t leave her in sweet torture for at least a little while,' he thought.

She was shaking now with need, a soft whine coming from her as she tried to slide her hands inside his sleeveless shirt, through the arm holes, beneath the collar, fingers between the buttons, anyway she could attempt to touch more of his skin.

"Hm? Do you need something from me?" he asked.

“More, please,” she said, her voice higher and needy.

"You want more?,” he asked though he knew. “Guess you can't help it!" For a moment he could almost feel her murderous intent at his sing-song reply. His hands quickly went to her hips, lifting her higher up the wall. Her tiny squawk at the sudden change made him laugh and breath fanned out across her belly. He shifted her just a little higher, and her hands scrambled for purchase, finally settling one against the cornice of the door and the other between his horns.

Slowly, so very slowly, he brought his lips to her hip bones, warming them with his tongue, dragging the points of his canines across them and calming their quaking with chaste kisses.

As his mouth travelled lower, he slid her leg up and rested it over his shoulder. First one and then the other, keeping her addled and distracted as his mouth constantly kissed everywhere except where she wanted.

He circled her mound and licked the creases of her legs, blowing gently on the damp places he’d left behind. He set her down fully on his shoulders and she groaned with frustration when his mouth left it’s path only for him to nibble at her belly. His hands rose back to her breasts and suddenly she was light headed again.

Briefly, she wondered if she could come from this alone as he alternated between kneading and tweaking, and that almost imperceptible swipe of his thumb over the sides of her ribs and under the curve of her breasts. When he raked his fingers back down she jerked against him and he smiled wickedly against her stomach.

He lifted her higher again, and she tried her best to balance against the wall, though he could tell she was becoming jelly.

A tentative lick to her folds and she tensed, nearly arching off the wall. He held her hips more forcefully and she didn’t complain when he licked again while his fingers left bruises.

Slowly, so very slowly he probed her with his tongue, finding every place that made her squirm against him or shake and moan. Still, much too quiet though. He circled her clit, and for a moment the only thing holding her to the realm was his hands. He plundered the warmth of her cunt, and her left leg shook, skimming the tips of his wings. He retreated and spread her own warmth back up to her clit. He alternated between plunging his tongue, pressing harshly against her clit with his nose, and soft gently lapping and pulling the outer lips with his teeth, never letting her completely fall into a rhythm.

Months of abstaining from her body, weeks even after the pact: she couldn’t make up for it all in one night, but they could certainly make a good attempt.

She was chanting his name in a hushed voice, rocking herself against his mouth and fisting his hair.

‘Oh, not nearly enough,’ they both thought.

His right hand left its home of tented fingers across her ass and slid up along her spine. He pulled slowly away from the wall and dropped her more fully onto his shoulders again. She whined at the loss of stimulation.

A warm, velvety sensation brushed over her knees and began to tighten. Through half lidded eyes she realized the scorpion normally attached at Asmodeus’ collar had migrated and was tightening around her knees, securing her firmly in place as the hand on her spine dipped her low.

She swore she almost blacked out at the rush of blood.

Gently, he raised her back up and she marvelled at how easy he made it seem. His hand pressed nearly between her shoulder blades as he helped her arch her back, and he lowered her again only slightly.

She was light headed and tingling, as he gently licked and sucked at her entrance. She couldn’t do much more than sluggishly writhe in the palm of his hand. His other hand came up to caress her side. Distracting her from their slow momentum forward. His grip danced over her hip, swirling over her lower ribs. She arched further for him, trying desperately to get his hand to cup her breast.

Instead, only the maddening sweep of his pads beneath her breast and a pleased hum that vibrated her thoughts into oblivion.

She only realized his wings had been brushing air across her feet when they stopped. He’d been playing her like a violin, and she knew it once he tipped her ever so slightly to hang over the balustrade at the top of the main stairwell.

Tensing at the sudden danger, he redoubled his attention and distracted her until she was so tightly wound she thought she was going to break. Only then did he rest her shoulders against the railing to free his left hand from its torturous travels.

“A-Asmo. Asmo, please,” she panted.

Oh, how he loved to hear his name falling from her lips. He loved how it echoed in the stairwell like this.

“Hmm?” he asked, against her as if he hadn’t heard her.

She moaned his name louder this time.

'I suppose I can reward her for that,' he thought. The tight velvet cuff around her knees clacked ever so slightly and loosened, giving him just enough space to tilt and vary the strokes of his tongue.

He could see her blood racing and her chest heaving, and all of that stilled for a moment in time as he pushed two fingers into her. The sensation was enough to draw out a high pitched squeal of surprise and pleasure.

The position was awkward for him, but he would more than make up for that later. ‘Almost there,’ he thought as he pumped his fingers into her, the bent knuckle of his ring finger striking the tight ring of her ass with each pass. His mouth was still on her clit and he sucked harder.

There it was. Music to his ears. He could play her song over and over for a lifetime.

The euphoria on her face as her whole body arched up without his aid. He couldn’t curl his fingers in the way he’d like, instead he rotated them slowly inside her while he slowed his thrusts, letting her ride out her pleasure on his mouth and in his hands.

She couldn’t hear the gentle clacking of chitinous movement, but she felt the velvet gliding over her thighs and releasing her knees. She shook as Asmodeus lowered her from her perch into the cradle of his arms. Her blood was rushing back to normal, the sensation both cooled and heated her, and her head lolled back as aftershocks shook her. Pulsing from her clit like a wave that lit up points along the way out of her body.

Asmodeus dipped his head to leave messy, open mouthed kisses on the tops of her breasts and neck, letting the scent of her arousal heat and dry on her skin. A constant reminder and drug for future rounds.

Carrying her gently back the way they came she clung to him, snuggling and clutching at him like he was the only warmth in the world. He only stopped to collect her torn nightgown along the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, I do not know who the author of the first poem is but the poem can be found here: https://getdrunkonyourkisss.tumblr.com/post/52345342832
> 
> “The best kiss is the one that has been exchanged a thousand times between the eyes before it reaches the lips.” ― Faraaz Kazi


	3. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MC asked for something very specific, and Asmodeus is nothing if not a demon loyal to his word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Often in older homes, there were clever ways of dispersing heat or cold air either for comfort, humidity issues, or to preserve food before iceboxes and refridgerators.
> 
> Cellars/Root cellars were very common but so were "cold closets" or "California coolers": a pantry unit that had screen covered vents to let in cool outside air. Located on an outside wall of the kitchen, the cooler’s openings have downward facing louvers on the outside to allow in air while at the same time keeping out the rain and screen or mesh covers on the inside to keep out insects. Occasionally, the cooler is not on the outside wall, but vented into a basement or airshaft. The shelves are also screen material, or wooden with holes drilled into them for circulation.
> 
> Some buildings also had "Wind Catchers" or "Wind Towers" which were used to cool and entire building. They function in three ways: directing airflow downward using direct wind entry, directing airflow upwards using a wind-assisted temperature gradient, or directing airflow upwards using a solar-assisted temperature gradient. They have been in use for millennia.
> 
> For this fiction, I have made the assumption that cold air is being forced up from the crypt below by a temperature gradient and out through the ventilation in the roof. Cold everywhere!
> 
> So, any sound loud enough in the cold pantry would echo through the vents and outside, presumably making it very difficult to pinpoint its source, especially if the air flow happened to be forced through additional vents...

MC groggily noticed when they had returned to the warmth of the kitchen and its dim light and Asmodeus felt her looking around with uncertainty, shifting to be released until he tutted at her.

“Trust,” he said in a hushed voice, and she stilled, but began covering her naked form as best she could.

Pushing open a door, he walked them into the pantry, closing it behind them.

“Asmo, it's freezing in here." she said, squealing from cold when he sat her on the deep ledge of a counter.

“Not for long,” he promised, “But I will need a little bit of cooperation if Mammon and Lucifer are going to hear you all the way from The Fall.”

She could see the faint glow of pink that shone from his eyes when he mentioned that. It was her only light until he lit a candle or two.

He spread her knees without effort, standing between them and leaning into her ear. “I’m going to make you come so hard, you’ll never be able to make a meal in this kitchen again without thinking of this and all the other ways you want me to fuck you after.”

She’d thought she was spent, but the heat from her blush seemed to pool and concentrate lower in her core again. She tried not to squeeze him between her thighs when she felt her passage clench at the lewd future he painted for her, but his tinkling laughter told her she had failed miserably.

Running his fingers along the seam of her mouth, he was pleased to find it was an encouragement to which she eagerly responded.

Her mouth fell open and she felt him slide two fingers in, moaning around the intrusion. Her thighs clenched tightly around him when she tasted herself on his fingers. Too soon, her mind was awash with the rhythm, and it was as if he were stroking her like that further south as well, each movement mimicked by the flutter of her inner walls below.

He watched her as he coaxed her mouth and body into a slow, pulsing pattern. Her hands clasped around his wrist as she tried to take just the tiniest bit more of him into her. He watched as her eyes slowly shut and one hand fell away to brush over her own breast. Only then did he let the warmth of his free hand fall on her thigh. She startled, but moved closer to the ledge of the counter and to him.

'Oh she is so receptive,' he thought.

Swirling her tongue around his fingers, she asked him for more. He pushed aside any of the remaining items on the low counter and forced her back on to the cool surface. Mouth still full, she squeaked around him when the cold touched the nakedness of her back and her legs dangled off the edge. But, he didn’t give her time to complain, instead returning to her dripping pussy, licking it in the same slow rhythm he had started again in her mouth.

“Oh, my, MC,” he said. “Just look how wet you are for me. What a naughty girl.” He dipped one finger into her as he lapped lightly at her clit. Even as sensitive as she already was from coming once, he knew this wouldn’t be enough. Not for what he wanted.

She moaned at first, and he could see her previous concerns melting away, but soon enough she realized that she couldn’t find the friction she had before. Every time she would press up into him or attempt to shimmy across the surface to gain more of him, he would pull away exactly as much, keeping the pressure constant, but never enough to fully lose herself.

Just when she thought she was going to have to sit up and take hold of him by the lapels he added another finger. Her hips came off the counter as he pressed his thumb down on her clit and stroked her walls. She shuddered from the sensation and the sound of the wetness between her thighs being so thoroughly worked.

As he thought she was close and he withdrew completely from her body.

She whimpered at the loss of his touch.

“Now, now,” he said. “So impatient.” He took her hands and raised them above her head, stretching her out along the counter as he eyed her like Beel did a buffet. She watched in amazement as the golden scorpion travelled down his arm towards her. She tried to flinch away, but his grip was like steel. Soon enough, she felt the warm heat of the scorpion wrapping its velvet underbody around her wrists. She’d always wondered why it was so long.

It was oddly soothing, a soft warmth in the very cool room. The contrast was even more noticeable when Asmodeus’ hot mouth closed around one of her nipples. He pressed her back down as she arched toward the heat. Once again taking her hands, but this time pressing them against the wall next to the door frame.

The crunching noise above her was unexpected, and she realized the scorpion had anchored itself into the wall. She tested its strength as he turned the wet heat to her other breast.

Engulfing one soft mound in his hand and the other in his mouth, he worked her slowly. Tracing circles and lines only he could see as she whimpered and begged him for more.

Oh the beautiful noises she made just for him. She was close, so close.

No’s spilled from her lips whenever he pulled away, pleading, repeating his name like it was her personal life preserver.

He left her momentarily and unbuttoned his shirt, only to start again at her feet: warming them with his breath, kissing the arch and licking at her ankles, he worked his way up. He tugged lightly when he massaged her calves to let her feel how her whole body lifted off the countertop. For now, she was captured, and in his control.

She rolled her hips helplessly as he held her legs apart, worshipping slowly.

A sudden pain flared and faded rapidly on her chest. She jerked at the sensation and then relaxed as she finally felt his lips passing her knee. The warmth of his torso against the inside of her legs echoed the warmth holding her arms hostage.

'Ah! There it was again! This time on the other side.' She left her stupor to look up and focus. The candles. He’d laid her out under the candles!

For every wax drip there was a soothing kiss. When the second candle began to drip on to the flesh of her belly he finally licked her again.

Over the counter, her legs dangling from the knees down, and he raised them to rest her feet on his stomach. She loved the strange warmth to his skin that all the demons seemed to have. Her own personal furnaces.

The heat relaxed her, even as she tensed with every stroke and every drip. He bent her knees as he leaned forward, folding her in half while giving slow lazy licks.

“Such a good girl,” he said, as he pressed two fingers back in at an even slower rate than before.

Little staccato ‘Ah’s’ echoed through the pantry and into the vents as he continued to press in to her, followed by prayers that seemed to consist only of “please” and “more”.

“Hmmm” he hummed merrily against her thigh. “My dear, you might come just from this.” He lazily plumbed her depths, just grazing her clit with his thumb or gently tapping her perineum with his pinky.

She could feel how exposed she was, stretched out above, and her legs bent by him to reveal all of her to the cold air between them. His words had her blushing with embarrassment, and yet she wanted more. She could feel herself milking his fingers with her walls.

“Oh yes, you’ll come so prettily for me won’t you?” he crooned, and she could see the glitter of his eyes when they locked with hers.

He stroked her side with his other hand and its heat almost felt like the burning of the wax as it made its way back down to her hip.

“Should I give you more?” he asked sweetly.

Oh he was a devil in an angel’s body! She let her knees fall out to the side as far as they could go, relaxing them, trying to bring him closer.

“Ah, I love when you unravel for me,” he said, and lifted one of her ankles over his shoulder.

“Maybe I’ll give you what you want after all,” he said, hitching her other thigh over his hip and pinning it against the wall.

She couldn’t properly see what he was doing as the candles flickered, and that only made the suspense worse. There was no fear, she just needed him. All of her senses were heightened, completely enraptured with the sight and sound and feel of him.

He gave a quick tug on her hip and she slid to the edge of the counter, one leg still high on his shoulder while the other remained bent and pinned. She arched trying to reach him, digging her heels into him to urge him forward.

“Asmodeus,” she keened, “Why won’t you fuck me?”

A warmth pooled down her arm and she realized the scorpion had released her wrists. Its legs were gentle pin pricks as it slithered to her torso.

It was too much.

She was so close.

Her breasts were still wet, the air on them cold from his mouth’s earlier attention. But, the warmth of the scorpion covered her slowly. It’s chitinous armour shielding the areas to be splattered with wax.

It was a deep heat against the cold and she touched it gingerly with her free hands.

Her freedom didn’t last long though. She felt Asmodeus pull out his fingers completely and her senses were focused again in the suspense of the moment as he pressed more into her.

The paradox of relaxing in to her need while simultaneously feeling the heat ratcheting higher and higher within her confused her senses. He sped up and she couldn’t keep quiet any longer. She found herself biting at the back of her own hand.

“Only good girls get to come,” she heard in the quiet of the room. He had stopped moving.

“Hands out of your mouth,” he said darkly, “I expect to hear you.”

Her hands rapidly found their way back down to the scorpion. Not even it would move for her.

“Good girl,” he purred and three fingers plunged into her, curling in the perfect place over and over again. The lack of gentleness was the perfect contrast to the safety of the scorpion that curved sinuously over her torso. Her mouth fell open and everything she thought fell out.

“So hot, so good... Please more... Fuck me just like that. Please, please, please. Just like that. More. Asmo. Asmo!” Her voice grew louder as he picked up speed. She could hear it echoing in the room. He drew her to even higher heights, and she could almost feel the sound of her own cries bouncing off the walls to touch her with their vibration.

“Say my name,” he called gently to her.

Even now her embarrassment managed to stall her and he slowed his pace. She frantically cried his name.

“Better,” he said. “Now, as punishment for your hesitation, you’ll have to tell the world who makes you feel this good if you want to come.”

She nodded desperately. He obliged and increased his pace again. The closer she got, the louder she was for him and he had a hard time not taking her right there.

He could feel her beginning to clamp down around his fingers more rapidly, she was in her own personal heaven now and he let the scorpion move to squeeze her tits ever so slightly. Leaning over her, he fully bent her in half as she came. Her hands scrabbling to hold on to him, to anything, as he kissed her, swallowing the last of her acclamations.

When he stilled completely she whined against his lips. It was dark she realized. The candles must have guttered out.

“Not a sound,” he whispered over her.

They heard footsteps enter and walk round the kitchen.

Asmodeus very, very slowly curled his fingers inside her, hitting her g-spot over and over, only lightly tapping at her clit.

She shook as he prolonged her pleasure, and she tried to make no sound, even as her hips jerked and she held her breath.

The scorpion relaxed its grip, and the footsteps left and carried on into the hall. She relaxed into boneless jelly as he fully released her and helped her sit up.

Taking up her torn nightgown, he used it to tidy her and the counter, leaving small affectionate kisses as he moved around her. Whispered compliments and praise rained down on her, soothing her.

He lifted her back into his arms and the scorpion took a long corkscrew path down her body to take up residence around her ankle as a single leg warmer.

She didn’t have the brain power to ask about it, instead she let herself drift in semi-conscious afterglow, encapsulated by his warmth.


	4. Doubt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tiny interlude of doubt and forgiveness

The security of his arms didn’t last long. Asmodeus placed her, naked, against the stonewall of the kitchen hearth.

She didn’t want this bone deep warmth at her back. She wanted him.

Reaching ineffectually for him, he stayed her with only his polished fingertip between her breasts. “Stay put for just a moment, my darling,” he said. “I won’t let you grow too fond in my absence.”

She leaned there, still catching her breath, slowly settling the fog of her mind and taking stock of her surroundings. A shiver wracked her body and she leaned more firmly against the stone.

Coming out of her stupor, she realized her predicament: she was naked. In the kitchen. Wearing nothing but Asmodeus’ scorpion and the arousal that coated her thighs. She didn’t think her blood was warm enough to even pump up to her cheeks, but it flooded all of her instead.

‘What if Beel walks in? What if those steps had been Lucifer? Can I make it to my room without being seen?’ She tested her legs as she tried to push herself away from the wall. They could hold her weight, but she wasn’t entirely certain they wouldn’t buckle if she needed to make a sharp turn or dash, whether from cold or jelliness.

Soaking up the heat of the hearth for now, she told herself it was just to gather her strength.

‘What have I done? Did he leave me here? … Even if he did, do I really regret it?’ She couldn’t regret it right now. Though she might the next day if he no longer took her rebuffs seriously.

'This is madness,' she thought, 'I'll make my way back to bed. Without him.' A few stumbled steps and she had the table to partially support her. She looked up, ready to totter her way to the door but found Asmodeus in its frame.

He clicked his tongue at her and shook his head, “Sweet Mistress. Sweet Mistress of mine, we shall have to work on your trust,” he said. “I know too much absence makes the heart wander, but this will not do.”

Striding forward, he collected the hand not supporting her on the table, and waited to see what she would do.

She looked abashed that she had doubted him, and slowly she brought her body closer to his, finally laying herself against him, comforting herself on the planes of his chest. Her hands crept up the back of his shirt and she stroked carefully around the base of his wings.

“I’m sorry,” she said, nuzzling her cheek against him, waiting for his forgiveness.

He stroked her hair thoughtfully, holding her gently to him. “I suppose you can be forgiven, just this once,” he said. Tilting her chin up to meet his gaze, he asked “Do you trust me?” 

She nodded carefully and relaxed as he gave a genuine smile.

“Good,” he said, and lifted her into the air above his head.

She made no noise, only a deep inhale at the unexpected movement. 'It's…warm? There is so much heat near the ceiling!' she realized, and she gloried in the temperature difference. A small yelp and she was airborne. She closed her eyes as the heat enveloped her further, and didn’t bother to look down. It was like a hug from a warm cloud.

He caught her easily. “Again?” he asked.

She shook her head, “Bed, please.”

“As the lady wishes,” he said, scooping her up again and ferrying her into the hall.


	5. One Kiss A Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A demon is only as good as his word.

Her room wasn’t far, it shared a wall with the kitchen after all. ‘Oh gods,’ she thought, ‘I’m going to blush every time I look at my own wall.’

She had thought that this would be the same as their usual banter, controllable. The first two kisses had seemed easy enough to handle. How wrong she had been. He had managed to humble her without taking anything for himself.

They arrived at her door, and he set her down further away than she would have liked. She was anxious to speed her naked body out of sight and behind her door, but his fingertips briefly held her ribcage before letting her rush forward. 

“Aah!” came the syllable of rebuke from behind her. She had frozen at the unexpected noise just before touching the door knob.

Partially turning, she look to him in confusion as he closed the distance between them leisurely.

“I believe,” he said, “that I was instructed to warm up my mistress, **here**.”

She paled momentarily before schooling her features.

“I’m also not convinced that Lucifer and Mammon have heard you yet,” he whispered, tucking an errant lock of hair behind her ear. 

She blushed madly, reminded of her daring hubris. “You’ve already worked so hard though…” she said, backpedaling as she reached again for the door.

But he was already next to her, his right hand retrieving her. His splayed palm over her diaphragm guided her back into the waiting heat of his exposed chest.

“You must have terribly cold feet,” he said teasing her. “Why else would you encourage me back to my duty by reaching for that so quickly?”

He lifted her left arm with his own, and her right fell away from the door in defeat. He shifted their weight and suddenly she was following his leading hand. Not far, no. Exactly to where he had first held her against the wall.

He placed her hands to the wall and slid his hand away as he let his body overshadow hers. He covered all of her and let his weight rest against her.

She couldn’t help but shift. One part of her bayed in the back of her mind, telling her not to move a single muscle, not to breathe too loudly or too deeply, but the other portion of her mind was already drunk on the pressure against her and the scent of him permeating her senses. Her mouth watered and she swallowed loudly.

Guiding her hands up from door knob level, he took them only to her shoulder height. He staid them there for a moment, without a word, ensuring she understood not to move them.

The temperature at her back dropped rapidly as he drew away, returning only in the shape of his hand pressing between her shoulder blades.

Off balance she arched her back the tiniest amount to stay in place. Then she heard the familiar clacking beneath her. It felt like a hot compress cased in plush velvet as it left her leg, corkscrewing upwards to take its position at his hand’s height.

She could move her hands, but as she heard the telltale crunch at her sides, she knew even that mobility had shrunk. It only cinched tighter as he drew his hand down her spine. She shivered deliciously for him.

Hands travelling between her and the wall, he spread his hold across her lower abdomen before pressing a leg between hers.

She felt him firmly pressing her feet apart, pushing first one and then the other. Each too achingly slowly. The tension in her mind was the only thing still holding her body up, aside from the scorpion beneath her shoulder blades.

“Oooh, very cold feet indeed!” he cooed. His mock concern clear when she heard him laughing at his own joke.

There was clacking again, but there was no movement on her back. She craned her neck as best she could, lifting her cheek from the cold wall to find the noise.

“Aw, MC, you didn’t think that was the only one did you?” he said as he slid his hands lower.

He brushed too lightly against her mound as he traced her thighs, her legs currently held too wide to exert the pressure she needed.

Despite the cold air, she was getting hotter by the minute. 

He had stooped to the floor she was fairly certain, at least if his hand positioning was anything to go by. They were currently placed across the tips of her toes and she realized he must be reclining under her.

The lewd image in her mind, she pulled against the scorpion, trying to press herself up from the wall, to skulk away lest anyone decide to walk by.

Tutting at her attempts, he held her toes securely to the carpet. He straightened, tilting his head back to blow his breath across her pussy.

Her movements stilled instantly, but she wasn’t ready when he licked her.

Hips jerking forward, he barely brought his hands up in time to save her pelvic bones from bruising against the wall. She was on the tips of her toes, straining to find that fleeting pleasure.

He lowered his hands only slightly to the front of her thighs before he began licking her in earnest, occasionally allowing his hands to stray and tease her folds.

He wanted to devour her like he would glut himself on Aristaeus’ honeycomb. Spreading her lips, he drank in the evidence of the orgasm shaking her above him.

She breathed heavily against the wall, quite happy for it to hold her up now. She was floating, she was sure of it.

A brief clacking and she realized once again that the scorpion hadn’t moved. She listened as carefully as she could around her thundering heartbeat and stifled panting.

There was a gentle, tickling sensation, travelling from her ankle upwards. It was taking nearly the same path that the scorpion had, but it was much less noticeable. There was a faint rustle as it climbed but no more clacking.

She was too drained to try and locate the sound. It couldn’t be Asmodeus’ hands, she could feel him now caressing her back and kissing along the tops of her shoulders. 

He stroked back some of the hair that clung to her forehead and the beads of sweat that had begun to form there.

“How warm would you like to be, oh mistress of mine?” he asked expectantly.

She tried to think. Willed herself to bring words together.

“Warm enough to sleep,” she settled on. That seemed safe.

A smack echoed through the hall and she jumped. The hand print on her ass burned.

“How warm would you like to be? Mistress?” he asked darkly.

But she couldn’t think. Words were so far from her. “Plenty warm to sleep.” 

The sting of his hand against her other cheek replied quickly.

Her lip quivered and he moved to her side. Kissing her gently as his palm passed over the hand prints, relieving some of the sting.

He leaned the side of his head against the wall to look at her clearly before kissing her again. Softly, sweetly, as his hands caressed her arms.

When he felt her return to herself he let his kisses trail over her body. They started tenderly at her exposed neck and slowly began scorching her again as he found the sensitivity of her back. Only returning from his travels when he felt her slowly shifting her legs apart again. He bit playfully at her earlobe.

“How warm would you like to be, MC?” he asked again.

She didn’t think. She only responded with any thought or image that cascaded and slipped through her mind and out her mouth. “Make me feel as hot as the first time I straddled you, the first time I explored you mouth,” she said. “As hot as the wax you let drip on me, as hot as your brother’s fury when he finds you fucking me while I moan for you.”

She wasn’t even sure which brother she meant as each of their reactions sped through her mind. 

His hands thudded against the wall near her head. It was his turn to shudder now. She felt it as he let some of his weight fall against her again.

“MC, you might actually be the death of me,” he said, his chuckle harsh over the nape of her neck. Slowly, he began to suck again at the skin of her shoulders.

“Asmooo,” she whined, her eyes fluttering closed.

Smiling against her skin, he continued the slow methodical tasting of her back.

“Fill me with your heat,” she said, her words barely heard through her sigh. 

He bit her skin slightly harder than he meant to, barely catching her as he grit his teeth. If she’d still had clothing on, he was sure the force of his lust for her alone would have just burnt it from her body.

He dropped his forehead to rest on her shoulder, whether in quiet affection or surrender to her unpredictability he wasn’t certain. Removing a hand from the wall, he unbutton his pants. 

Far away she could hear the pop of it. She had hissed quietly at his bite, but her eyes remained closed and her frown smoothed away quickly. Only the marching flutter of fabric that had begun again dragged her from the sea she floated in.

She felt the head of his cock slide between her legs and she moaned without shame. Reacting to every tentative thrust as he coated himself in her lubrication.

Momentarily, she imagined he must be pliéing to get the angle that was currently pressing him against her entrance, and she stifled a lightheaded giggle. 

“So, wanton,” he said, scolding her when she attempted to press down on him.

By his tone she knew there would be no punishment for her forwardness. “Fuck me,” she said. “Please fuck me. I can’t wait anymore.”

He slid into her wet heat, feeling himself pulse inside her as he came to a slow stop when his hips finally met the flesh of her ass.

Waiting for her writhing and muffled cries to ease, he began to set a pace. “You’re so wet for me, MC,” he said, and she could hear the wet slapping to confirm it.

He almost didn’t catch her words as she mumbled against the wall.

“Only for you,” she whispered, and he knew she couldn’t lie while she was in this state.

He lost his rhythm at that. His heart clenching at the intense feeling in his chest.

Removing his hand from the wall, and he helped her to lift her leg. The clacking and the fluttering whirred to life again as she found her left leg pulled back and held bent at his side.

She was dizzy, but had regained enough coherence to realize he had somehow bound her leg almost horizontal to his waist. She was going to ask when he thrust again, hitting an entirely new angle inside her.

This time she cried out, unable to muffle her pleasure as he drove in to her and simultaneously pressed her nipples into the seam of the wainscotting. Each thrust drawing her closer to completion, she chanted his name and yes’s. Closer and closer. With so much overstimulation, again and again, this was a bigger and more intense orgasm than she had ever felt. She was adrift in a turbulent sea, clinging to the life raft of her sanity as he thrust into her again and again. Hitting that sweet spot and gripping her body just so.

She realized she must have been begging as his passion thick voice cut through the haze.

“Tell me what you want,” he said, flexing and pulsing rapidly inside her.

She could only moan and say please.

“Tell me what you need,” he pressed.

“Just you, Asmodeus, just you,” she said, tears starting to form at the corners of her eyes.

Rapid clacking and the heat at her back disappeared. He’d freed her upper body and turned her to face the open hall, trading places with her, to fuck her from behind for all of the world to see.

She could feel the small amount of drool where her face had pressed against the wall. It was cooling quickly, but the hands that moved to knead her breasts distracted her from her embarrassment.

There was a soft muttering in the. It was her, she realized, gushing platitudes as he continued to pound in to her. The heat of his breath still on her neck, she could tell he was getting close too.

“Asmodeus?” she managed to ask without her voice breaking too many times.

“Yes, my Sweetest Heart,” he replied, trying so very hard to concentrate. He dropped his hand down to her clit, even the slightest touch of his slick fingers causing her to gasp and twitch.

“I want to be dripping you for days,” she said.

The way he clutched her tightly to him, lifting her ever so slightly, put her over the edge. She writhed on his cock but he only sped up, thrusting erratically until finally she felt him shooting his come as deeply inside of her as he could seat himself.

Still panting, he swept them both inside her door and leaning his free side against it he locked it. Slowly, her leg was released from its bindings and the trail of petal-finned scorpion rewound itself into a rose on his shirt.

She wasn’t sure how they got to the bed, but they were on it just as the sounds of hurried steps made themselves known in the corridor. She felt a stickiness that had made its way past her knees.

After a few moments there was a knock. “MC, are you in there?” came Lucifer’s voice.

Her room was dark, but she could still see Asmodeus’ face in the moonlight. His eyebrows raised at her in question.

“Hmmmm?” she called out groggily. “What time is it? Is something wrong?”

“Oh, no, I did not mean to alarm you. I was simply looking for a rather loud companion of Asmodeus’ and was worried they may have bothered you.”

“Is that what that was?” she said sleepily with a small laugh, “I thought I dreamed that racket.”

“Indeed,” he said and his steps retreated.

She moved to speak, but Asmodeus pressed his finger to his lips. She searched his expression, but found no answers from the tense set of his jaw and the alertness of his eyes.

Very slowly, almost imperceptibly, her doorknob began to turn until it met the lock. Just as slowly the knob returned to its original position and nearly silent steps retreated.

Only then did Asmodeus let out a sigh and fight with the sheets until she was covered.

He threw off the remainder of his clothing and pulled her to him, creating a little nest of pillows and blankets. He continued to stroke her hair and the curve of her cheek. Gently kissing her lips, he petted and caressed her until she came fully back to herself: no longer desperate but still in need of his touch.

She nuzzled into his care and rubbed her nose against his shyly.

“Don’t forget,” she said sleepily. “One kiss every day.”

Asmodeus’ body went completely limp from exasperation. She really would be the end of him he thought and he turned his head into the pillow to smother his laughter.

They’d have to buy more recliners.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer does not trust that one of Asmodeus' associates would be above sneaking in to the room of a sleeping human.


End file.
